• As usual, I was in a supermarket. If I’d thought about it, which I suppose I did, there were quite a lot of places I’d rather have been. But… you know. I don’t ever remember deciding to spend any time at all in supermarkets, but there I was. Trying to buy something. Something or other. I’d forgotten what it was, which pretty much seemed to be the supermarket’s fault. There were a lot of aisles. A lot of light. I was amazed at the way people steered their shopping trolleys past those pushed by other people. That was just skill. When it was busy, people waited their turn for the baked beans or whatever.
    Underneath the supermarket there were trenches where demons shovelled bodies – the dead, the half-dead, the wounded, the despised – into deep trenches. There was a horrible sense that everything was inevitable. Down there, things were dusty and left behind. They powered the lighting system with every regret the shoppers above had ever had. Even their subterranean sewerage systems were operated by regret.
    Up above, in the supermarket, everything was keyed up for some sort of trancendental moment… the space, the light, the congregation. But nothing happened except for shopping. Um. No problem there, I suppose.
    That would have been okay.
    Really, it would. I could have coped, and everything.

    Possibly I was watching TV.
    But I’m not sure. There was some sort of war; the usual, really. The main thing seemed to be that people were shooting at other people. Not that anything seemed worth fighting about, but there they were, shooting and killing. Idiots. Anyway. Whatever. Bang bang, kill kill, dead dead. Nothing exciting. Nothing new. Anyway, I was watching this from some sort of viewpoint, and then I noticed something odd about the terrain. There were circular patches of ground, unnaturally green, unnaturally flat…
    You’re right. It was a golf course coated with war.
    That’s right.
    A golf course.
    I suppose that the camera panned round, but the strangest thing was what I saw next. There were some men shooting at some other men. A lot of them ended up being shot, and a lot of those men fell over. They were the dead ones, after it had all finished.
    The strangest thing?
    Yes, that was what I was going to tell you about.
    Well, maybe it isn’t so strange.
    There was a man sitting on a folding chair, on one of the golf greens.
    There he was, and there was a small folding table in font of him, with a glass on it.
    His caddy was, with a shaking hand, pouring a drink into his glass.
    And that man sat there, drinking his drink.
    Maybe he was waiting for the war to be finished.

    My last thought
    I was a bit stupid, not realising that zombies live amongst us. It wasn’t obvious, and no-one had the decency to tell me. So I wasn’t blind; I was just ignorant. I mean, I had suspicions, feelings… whatever. Everyone has them.
    The main thing about zombies, as I realised, is that they aren’t very different from us. I’ve seen the films, and, well, they’re not very accurate. Zombies aren’t different from us at all. They don’t eat people; that’s just ridiculous. Unless they’re desperate, I guess, and I’ve got to say: who wouldn’t eat a human corpse if it really came to it? So that’s the point. Zombies are just like us. You can’t tell who’s a zombie. So it doesn’t matter anyway. Makes no difference.